Poker Face
by Swindler
Summary: Oh the joys of the ever-charming Spot Conlon. Tempest is sent to Brooklyn by Jack on a mission, and in the process gets an unwelcome surprise. Why does this always happen?


Tempest McClellan pushed her way through the mob of men and boys, pulling her hat down over her eyes to shade them from the sun. At any point during the day the Brooklyn docks were crowded with newsies, workers and the occasional hooker. She hated it. Too many bodies too close together; it smelled like dead fish and sweat. Someone whistled at her and she slowed her steps for a moment to shoot back a nasty reply.

"Aw, Temp, you know I'm only messin' with ya." The offender called.

Tempest made a noise somewhere between a growl and a snort, and stopped completely when she recognized him to be one of Spot Conlon's newsies. "Well, well, Spin. Long time no see; still as annoying as always. Got nothing better to do?"

"Oh, I've got things better than this."He said motioning to her. "But you're just too easy. I love watching your face turn red." He raised his eyebrows, "What're you doing out here anyway?"

"Like it's any of your business," Tempest glared, already getting bored, daring him to keep going.

He shrugged and walked off, heaving his papers onto his shoulder as he went. He knew better than to continue this; Tempest, in his humble opinion, was a complete nut.

Tempest kept going. _Where the hell is he? _She asked herself. Tempest was looking for none other than Spot Conlon. Her reasons for it were questionable, but no one really had the guts (or the stupidity rather), to question them. Tempest was not a girl to mess with. She had no problem decking someone who she felt deserved it. She had a problem with her temper and an even bigger problem with keeping her mouth shut. A lot of people had a problem with her and she had a problem with a lot of people. The only people she really got along with were Jack Kelly and Specs, both Manhattan Newsies. Some people would say that she got along well with Swindler but it really had more to do with a mutual agreement that Specs had forced them into: Temp had to listen to Swindler and Swindler had to not kick Tempest out.

Tempest stood on her tippy toes, looking over the heads and stacked crates trying to see anyone she recognized. _Damn, _she thought, _Why didn't I ask Spin where Spot was when I had the chance?_ She took her hat off and ran a hand through her messy hair. _This is gonna take hours. _She reasoned that, if in fact she did happen to stumble upon the Brooklyn rat, she might have forgotten what she needed from him. Honestly, she wasn't even sure that he would be on the docks. Nonetheless, she was enjoying the nice day. The days were getting warmer and Tempest could almost taste spring approaching. After the cold winter the warm was a relief. Although, the past winter hadn't been too bad, she mused; they hadn't lost anyone (unless Minstrel's kitten counted, but Tempest was never fond of the creature anyway, so it's passing didn't bother her).

At last she reached the end of the docks; the usual haunt for the self-proclaimed King of Brooklyn. It was near deserted as it almost always was. She poked her head in some of the cubbyholes formed by the accumulation of crates that always seemed to grace the pier. After telling a group of young boys she found playing craps behind the boxes to scram, she turned to the water, hands on her hips and sighed. She was considering other places the newsboy could be found. She was just about to turn back and head to the bridge when a voice behind her asked, "Looking for something?"

Tempest jumped in to the air in surprise and proceeded to turn around to face the voice, or the body the voice belonged to rather. The blue-eyed boy stood a little too close for Tempest's comfort, leaning on his cane and smirking. She pushed him back. "Jesus Christ!"

Spot Conlon laughed, "Nope, the name's Spot, but anyone could make the mistake."

She tipped her head and gave him a look, "Ha-ha, _very_ funny, Conlon. You nearly scared me to death."

"And wouldn't that have been a shame." He said watching her anger level rise. Pushing his luck, he continued, "So what are you doing here Temp? I thought I made it clear you shouldn't come over here to make trouble anymore."

It was her turn to smirk, "I was sent on a personal favor -courtesy of Cowboy. I believe you owe him some money?"

He sat on a crate, looking incredulous, "Do I?"

"Yeah," Tempest said scuffing her boot on the dock and crossing her arms, looking threatening, "You do."

"And how did I come by owing Jack money?"

"Poker." Tempest said, wrinkling her nose. Surprisingly, Tempest hated poker. She felt it was boring to be betting on cards. She'd rather make bets on people; it was far more interesting that way. Poker was just a bunch of teenage boys sitting around a decrepit table with a decrepit deck of cards, drinking cheap beer they probably stole, smoking disgusting cigars and cigarettes, and generally just trying to look grown-up.

"And why is Jack not here, collecting this debt himself?"

"Well I-I-" Temp faltered. She didn't know the answer to that question. She supposed it was because Jack was too-"Lazy." She offered.

Spot shook his head and used his cane to get up, "Really." He took a slow step towards her. "How kind of you," He took another step. "Y'know, Temp, deep down, I think you really are a good person." One more step, "And that's what I like about you." Another step, "What I really, really like about you." He was almost on top of her now, forcing her to take a step back. He was now looking at her intently.

"R-really?" Tempest was trying to keep her tone of voice in check, she was trying to hold composure, trying to still look tough, even being this close to Spot. She pulled her hat off and ran a hand through her hair. Spot took a step towards her again. She matched his step by pulling back farther.

This time when he stepped forward he leaned down and repeated, "What I really, really like about you Molly McClellan."

Tempest felt her face heat up, not even caring he used her god forsaken birth name. She took one more step back, but was met with nothing. A look of surprise lit her face. She threw her arms in circles in a vain attempt to keep from falling off the edge, but it was too late. She hit the cold water, mouth open a curse already on her lips. She looked so ridiculous splashing around that Spot just couldn't control himself any longer; he let out a peal of laughter that shook his entire body. _Girls_, he thought to himself, _are really just too easy_.

Tempest's head broke the surface and she flailed around for a moment looking incredibly disoriented. She spit a stream of water on to the dock and continued to tread water, frantically pushing hair out of her eyes and mentally reprimanding herself. Spot shook his head at her, still laughing, "And I thought you were better than that Tempest! Tell Jack he can come get the money himself!"

Unfortunately, even Tempest McClellan was powerless against Spot Conlon when he turned on the charm. A lot of thoughts ran through her mind, one being: _Jack won't give me the money he promised if I don't come back with _his_ money and I'll be out a day's selling! _The rest were all various ways of telling Spot how much she hated him. She watched the boy walk away down the wharf smiling, swinging his cane and whistling a cheerful tune and she could only say one thing, "I hate you, you arrogant bastard!"

Spot's smile just widened.


End file.
